


In all the languages of love

by Kaleidoscope_Carousel



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaleidoscope_Carousel/pseuds/Kaleidoscope_Carousel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series based on the six types of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frea_O](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frea_O/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eros // passionate, physical, and emotional love based on aesthetic enjoyment; stereotype of romantic love

Felicity was seriously considering dismantling the damn salmon ladder herself, and throwing it in the garbage outside. It was a distraction, it was unfair, it was. . . it was impossible to keep her eyes off it. It, and the person currently working her way steadily up and down the blasted thing.

Laurel Lance ( _that_ Laurel, _gorgeous_ Laurel) of course, didn’t sweat like a normal human being. Oh no. Laurel freaking Lance glowed. And because of Laurel, climbing the salmon ladder like a champ in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of yoga pants, Felicity had not gotten a lick of work done in the last 45 minutes. She wouldn’t be surprised if she looked down and saw a line of text caused by her jaw hitting her keyboard when Laurel first walked in and started in on her exercise routine.

Finally Laurel jumped down and grabbed a towel to wipe her face (God, was it really fair that her lashes were that long and dark without mascara?) and sauntered over towards Felicity’s desk. 

“Watcha working on?” she asked. 

“Abs. . .abs. . .uhhh. . .abs—olutely nothing important.” Felicity finally managed to spit out, dragging her eyes away from Laurel’s stomach, and wheeling her chair to the monitors over on the other side of her desk set up. Stupid, stupid mouth.

“Really? You looked like you were in your own little world. I figured you were working on some new tracking system, or something.”

“Nope,” Felicity answered, back still to Laurel, because damn it she didn’t need to show her blush off to anyone, especially not Laurel, thanks. “I’m just running some basic updates, checking to see if we have any new threats to the city. I mean, it is Tuesday, so.”

Laurel laughed. “I thought it was Thursdays that were hard to get the hang of?” she asked. Felicity whirled around in her chair.

“You’ve read Hitchhiker’s Guide?” she asked.

“Believe it or not, I read more than just law books and old case files. Shocking, I know.” Laurel said, and winked. Felicity felt her stomach twist pleasantly in a way she was trying desperately to ignore. Because this was Laurel. Beautiful, smart, perfect Laurel who could not possibly be flirting with her. 

“I’m not. . . I didn’t mean. It just didn’t seem like your type of thing.” Felicity stiffened, as Laurel reached out and put a hand on her arm.

“Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time. Honestly, it feels like I haven’t had a chance to read for fun in a long time. Between being an Assistant DA and the Black Canary, it’s not like there’s a lot of downtime. I maybe do need to take a night off, though. I’m thinking Chinese from that place you like, virgin cosmos, and the latest season of whatever trashy reality show Sara programmed on my PVR last time she and Nyssa popped in to town?”

“That actually sounds really good. I’m not going to say the _q-u-i-e-t_ word, because that will totally jinx everything, and the last thing we need is a plague of assassins, or a gang war, or more metahumans, but I think the boys and Speedy have a handle on things tonight.”

“Great!” Laurel said. “I’m going to go home and have a quick shower. Meet you at mine in an hour?”

“It’s a date,” Felicity said, “well not a date-date, like you’re inviting me to Netflix and chill but a friend-date, or. . .three, two, one.” Laurel just looked at her, smiling slightly until Felicity managed to get the babbling under control. “Yes, is what I meant,” she said, “I’ll see you in about an hour.”

58 minutes and three seconds later, Felicity stood outside Laurel’s apartment door. She smoothed her skirt down for the fourth time, and finally managed to knock on the door. Laurel opened the door wide and smiled at Felicity. Her hair hung loose in softly curled waves, and her makeup was lighter than what she wore in her Black Canary outfit. She smelled like the fancy apricot shampoo she always used, Felicity noticed.

“Come on in,” she said, “the food arrived about five minutes before you did. I wasn’t sure whether you keep kosher or not, but I didn’t order any pork or shellfish, anyway. Just in case.”

“I think you’re the first person on Team Arrow to actually remember I’m Jewish,” Felicity said, “and definitely not kosher. I’ve had waaaaay too many Big Belly cheeseburgers for that, but I appreciate the gesture.” Laurel tucked a strand hair behind her ear, and ducked her head for a moment before looking up at Felicity again.

“No problem,” she said, and led Felicity into the living room, where the Chinese food was set up on the coffee table, along with a shaker and two margarita glasses. “I hope you don’t mind that the cocktails are virgin, I tend to avoid liquor stores. The temptation is too much.”

“Hmm, no that’s totally fine” Felicity said, “I get it.” She dropped her purse beside the couch, and sat down. Laurel sat down next to her with the remote.

“So, Bachelorette or Big Brother?” Laurel asked.

“Oooh, definitely Bachelorette,” 

Two and a half episodes later, Felicity noticed Laurel had moved ever so slightly closer to her. She could feel Laurel’s leg brushing against hers every time she shifted, and it was getting harder to focus on the drama onscreen when there was major drama happening on the couch right next to her. She also noticed the garlic chicken had gone untouched. 

Felicity took a deep breath, and looked over to Laurel, who was looking right back at her. The light of the television flickered over her face, but Felicity could still recognise the expression she wore. It was the same one she was pretty sure Felicity herself had on whenever certain extremely attractive vigilantes she happened to work with decided to take their shirts off and start sparring in front of her.

“So,” she said, “this totally is a ‘Netflix and chill’ kind of date, isn’t it?” Laurel’s eyes darkened.

“Only if you want it to be,” she answered, voice low and a little rough. Felicity nodded.

“Yes, that is definitely something I want.” 

“Good,” Laurel whispered, “me too.” She shifted and leaned towards Felicity, licking her lips. Felicity’s eyes darted between Laurel’s lips and her eyes, and then grabbed Laurel’s arms and pulled, so Laurel was leaning over her, as she half lay against the arm of the couch. Laurel dipped her head down, slowly, and Felicity rose up slightly to meet her. "God, you're so beautiful," Laurel said, just before she came close enough to bring their lips together. 

Laurel’s kiss was soft, soft and warm and so inviting. She tasted like cranberry and lime from the cosmos, and the slight waxy flavour of her lipstick. Felicity gasped as Laurel moved to get more comfortable, and her leg slipped in between Felicity’s own.

“Too much?” she asked.

“No, it's fine,” Felicity said. Laurel’s little smile was back, and Felicity wanted to taste it. So she did. When the kiss broke she saw Laurel looking at her with the most intense gaze she’d ever seen.

“So, I have a bedroom,” she said. “Do you maybe want to move things there?” 

Felicity nodded, and although she whimpered a bit at the loss of contact when Laurel stood up, the shiver that went through her when Laurel grabbed her hand to help her up made up for it.

They made it as far as the door of Laurel’s room before Felicity found herself being backed into the wall, Laurel kissing her like she’d never get enough. Laurel’s hands slipped under the hem of Felicity’s blouse, and she gasped. Laurel broke away for a moment, leaning her forehead against Felicity’s the question obvious in her eyes. Felicity answered it for her by guiding Laurel’s hands further upwards, then grabbing her face to bring her in for another hungry kiss. She pushed back against Laurel, and Laurel let herself be guided backwards toward the bed. When her knees hit, Laurel sat, and Felicity crawled onto her lap, pulling her the hem of her top. “Shirtless,” she said, “you and Oliver are shirtless all the time except when I really want you to be. It’s not fair,” Laurel chuckled in the back of her throat, and lifted the shirt over her head in one swift move.

“Better?” she asked.

“Much,” Felicity said.

“Mmm, but now you’re the one who’s not being fair.” Laurel said, and reached for the buttons on Felicity’s blouse, undoing them one by one. Felicity shivered at each brush of Laurel’s fingers against her skin.

“I don’t see how that’s not fair, I mean you're always parading around the Arrow cave with those arms and oh,” she said, as Laurel ducked her head and brushed delicate kisses across her collarbone, “I didn’t even know that was a thing that did it for me, but apparently it is. I really do have a type, and that type is tortured vigilantes who spend far too much time half naked, doing chin ups.”

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Laurel said, gently pushing Felicity's shirt down and across her shoulders, "I find you just as distracting, sitting there at your computers with those glasses and that look of concentration on your face." Felicity reached up and took said glasses off, setting them carefully down on the nightstand.

"Less distracted now?" Felicity asked.

"I have to say I'm pretty focused right now," Laurel said, and set out to prove to Felicity just how focused she could be.


	2. Storge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storge // an affectionate love that slowly develops from friendship, based on similarity

“Hey,” Laurel says, as she steps off the mat, towel thrown casually over her shoulder after her training session with Thea, “are you still up for Girl’s Night tonight? I know you’ve been busy with running the company. We can do a raincheck if you want.” 

Felicity looks up from the screen, rubbing the space between her eyebrows where a nasty little headache has been growing steadily for the past half an hour. “Yes, I am so there. I need some mindless romantic comedy, greasy food, and a night without douchebags in suits telling me what to do to improve the bottom line for the third quarter.” Laurel snorts gently and reaches out to squeeze Felicity hand, before she pulls it back.

“I know what you mean. I think the only people who are bigger blowhards than douchebag lawyers in suits, are douchebag businessmen in suits. But I’ll have everything ready when you’re able to get out of here. Usual time?” Felicity nods, turning back to her screen. It used to be that she would spend her work hours on vigilante stuff, now it’s the other way around. She sighs, as Laurel and Thea’s footsteps disappear behind her up the stairs.

Girl’s night, oddly enough, started with a coffee order. Americano, black, one sugar. And two hands reaching for the same cup. Felicity withdrew as if she’d been burned. The sacredness of hot bean water must never be violated, and she would never take someone else’s brew. She’d looked up, mortified, to see Laurel standing right in front of her. She’d been so focussed on getting her caffeine fix, that she hadn’t even noticed her there. Laurel just laughed at the expression on Felicity’s face, and slid the cup over towards her. “I guess they don’t call out people’s names here,” she said, still smiling. “Names are too bourgeois for this place.” Felicity looked around at all the long haired dudes with goatees, and the girls in plaid overshirts with undercuts, and smiled, too.

“Yeah, it’s not my usual scene,” she said. “But since the Triad decided to bomb Star City’s Jitters, this is the closest place to PalmerTech. Seriously, what is with that, though? What do drug runners have against coffee? Is it infringing on their business?” She finished by curling her hands protectively around the cardboard cup. Laurel reached for the next cup as the barista set it down with a disaffected sigh and an apathetic mumble of the order. 

“Maybe Jitters is secretly owned by the Italian mob. Next time I see Helena, I’ll have to ask her.”

“Better you than me,” Felicity said, “I didn’t know you frequented establishments like this one. I figured they’d chase you out of here for being a symbol of everything that’s wrong with our current capitalistic society.” 

Laurel leaned in and whispered, “I’m undercover,” with a conspiratorial wink in Felicity’s direction.

“Really?” Felicity asked.

“No, I actually helped the owner out back in my CNRI days, and so I get the employee discount. And it’s a good thing, too, otherwise I would have to give up my place and rent a smaller one to pay for my caffeine addiction,” she paused, “on second thought, maybe Jitters really was infringing on China White’s operations.” 

“Something to look into,” Felicity said, “maybe we’ll be busting multimillion dollar CEOs who create super addicting coffee to keep the cash flowing soon.” Laurel laughed again.

“Maybe so,” she said, “Hey,” she added, “what are you doing tonight? Thea and I are having a Girls’ Night and you should join. We haven’t really spent much time together outside of our mutual. . . hobby. I think we should fix that. Maybe that way you won’t have to ask me if we’re friends or not.”

“Sure, I mean, as long as I’m not infringing on your bonding time with Thea.”

“Not at all, Thea and I live together and we have unofficial girls’ nights all the time. You should definitely come. We’d love to have you.” Felicity found herself nodding almost without realising it. “Great!” Laurel said, “see you at 8:30,” and promptly turned and left the shop, leaving the scent of her apricot shampoo trailing in the air behind her.

Felicity doesn't have to wonder, now, as she sits on the floor with her back to Laurel's couch, if they are friends or not. Laurel herself is perched above and carefully combs her fingers through Felicity's blonde hair, twisting the strands into an intricate braid that Felicity would never have managed on her own. Ponytails are easy and practical after all, thank you very much. But she has to admit, the tug and pull of Laurel’s fingers in her hair feels really nice, It’s comfortable, and safe.

This is their third Girls' Night in as many weeks, and for once Thea isn't there to join them. She and Sara have taken to spending a lot of time together, sparring, patrolling, or sitting up on the roof bonding over their shared experience of being brought back from death, or the brink of it. The latter habit of theirs makes Laurel understandably nervous, something that Felicity can sense with every flick of Laurel’s gaze to the fire escape, or the door. Whatever happened to Sara on the Waverider seems to have cured her of any desire to kill Thea, though, and it’s kind of nice to be here, just the two of them. Laurel has quickly woven herself into every aspect of Felicity’s life, and she’s become one of the best friends Felicity has ever had.

“Done!” proclaims Laurel, breaking Felicity out of the half-trance she’d been in. She drops her hands to Felicity’s shoulders and catches her gaze in the reflection of the glass doors on the tv cabinet. “It looks good on you.”

Felicity reaches up and touches the braid that circles her head like a crown, eyes never leaving Laurel’s in the reflection. “Thank you,” she says softly, and lets her hand flutter down to land on Laurel’s which is warm and soft on her shoulder. It’s like that reaction sparks something in Laurel, because she takes a sharp breath and stands up abruptly, jostling Felicity slightly with the movement.

“Well,” she says, “time to order the pizza? Pineapple, right? You and Sara are pretty much the only ones who let me get away with that, which is ridiculous because it’s delicious. I’ll go dig the menu out of the drawer.” Felicity frowns slightly, usually she had the monopoly on nervous babbling. What just happened? 

She gets to her feet, and follows Laurel to the kitchen where she finds her, hands gripping the counter with white knuckles, and her head bowed over the half open junk drawer. “I can’t find it,” she says, and her little laugh sounds forced, “I should have the number memorized by this point, right?” 

“Laurel,” Felicity asks, “are you alright?” Laurel looks up at her, and if her eyes are a little shinier than normal, it could be glare from the lights in the living room.   
“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, wiping at her eyes a little, “I was just thinking how nice this is, actually getting to hang out when the city isn’t falling down around our ears, or one of us is in hospital recovering from life threatening injuries.”

“It is nice,” Felicity agrees, “so why do you not seem so happy?”

“I just don’t want to ruin this,” Laurel says, “I’m enjoying being your friend.”

“And yet you still haven’t carried through on your threat to get us matching bracelets.” 

Laurel turns and leans her back against the counter, arms crossed against her chest. “We just get along so well, and we’re such a good team. We have so much in common, up to and including the same questionable taste in men. And that’s where I keep getting hung up.”

“Because I dated Oliver? You think we can’t be friends because we have the same ex? Because if that’s the case then I think you need a revised version of the Feminist Manifesto.” Laurel shakes her head.

“It’s not that. It’s the taste in _men_ , thing. And I’m not. A man, I mean.”

Oh. Oh. Ohhhh.

Felicity’s pretty sure she’s doing a world class impression of a goldfish at the moment. It takes her a second or two for her brain to click back on, and then it treats her to a montage of the past few months. Every careful brush of Laurel’s hands against hers, every look, every hug that maybe lasted a second longer than it could have. Oh. Her body then takes the opportunity to remind her of how it felt to have Laurel’s fingers tangled in her hair, Laurel’s arms around her in a hug, Laurel’s voice in her ear warning her of the scary parts while watching the horror films Thea insisted on when it was her turn to choose. Oh. 

Laurel’s looking more frightened than Felicity’s seen her since the incident with Count Vertigo, and she realises she should probably say something. Anything. Instead, she finds herself walking towards Laurel and pinning her against the counter with her hips. She reaches up and places her hands on either side of Laurel’s face. “I guess we have one more thing in common than you thought,” she says, and pulls her in for a kiss.


End file.
